By Colleen Coble
Whilst Hannah refuses to forgive a bad sin she turns into "anathema"--shunned. however the genuine query is, can she forgive herself?
Visitors come to Parke County, Indiana to benefit from the lush farms, to shop for the Amish quilts, and to adventure the peaceable methods of the Amish households who stay there. but if a double homicide rocks this quiet neighborhood, the Amish citizens unravel to forgive even this unfathomable offense.
Hannah, although, reveals forgiveness out of reach--both for the assassin and for herself. She harbors a mystery disgrace: whereas the crime was once devoted in her own residence, she used to be out assembly together with her forbidden love, her English beau, Reece.
The elders of the neighborhood insist that Hannah needs to forgive her family's killer or be kept away from. while Hannah refuses, she runs away with Reece, abandoning the one existence she's ever known.
Years later, Hannah needs to trip again to where she not calls domestic. Can she locate the forgiveness and belonging she so desperately wants
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Stand back and give her some air,” a vaguely familiar voice said. “Does she need CPR? I’ve been trained in CPR,” a man said from a distance. Oh God, it hadn’t been a nightmare. Slowly she opened her eyes and stared into the kindest emerald eyes framed by long dark lashes. Concern reflected from their depths, and she realized his strong arms were wrapped around her. A strange sense of comfort settled over her like a security blanket. For the first time in two days she felt sheltered and safe. “Don’t move,” he cautioned.
She threw back the leather flap, and instead of feeling she started frantically digging, searching for the matching leather wallet that contained her life. The thousand dollars in cash, three credit cards, her driver’s license, her very identity. Instead she found her Ralph Lauren sunglasses, her Lancôme lipstick, her keys, her Monte Blanc pen, and her Estee Lauder perfume. Everything except her wallet. Panic squeezed her chest and her breathing became shallow and tight. Oh God, could her life get any worse?
The gorgeous, truth-spinning lawyer held her. No! Not another lawyer. The botched wedding, the bus trip, the last forty-eight hours rushed back, the memories weaving icy tendrils of panic through her blood. This attorney probably knew her father’s firm. This attorney could send her home, back to the drama she’d escaped. “I’m fine,” she blurted, sitting up straight and struggling out of his arms. ” “Honey,” the waitress soothed, bending down beside the lawyer, “no one has ever passed out in my restaurant.